


Fragments of Breath

by Welp



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, hand holding, idiots not knowing they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welp/pseuds/Welp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the seconds that he remembers, the fragments of time that he’s always struggled to hold on to, that he chases after with every step, every jump, every lap. He’s always running, inches away, fingertips brushing and desperately trying to grasp, coming back to his chest empty every time, every goddamn time.</p><p>Hinata can't stop thinking about Kageyama's hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragments of Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little experiment more than anything else, with little plot, and is in the very early stage of pre-slash. I wanted to try with a less straight forward writing style, that was a little more poetic I guess? But I don't think that really describes this. Hope you enjoy!

It’s the seconds that he remembers. The fragments of time that he’s always struggled to hold on to, that he chases after with every step, every jump, every lap. He’s always running, inches away, fingertips brushing and desperately trying to grasp, coming back to his chest empty every time, every goddamn time.

He stares at Kageyama’s back as he leaves the gym, hand dangling empty at his hide. Hinata thinks about the red scorched into his palm, his throbbing heart, pulling at his ribcage. He thinks about the volleyball that has only touched that hand for pieces of time, too quick to cherish, too precious to ignore. 

It’s Kageyama who touches the ball first, always, shooting it towards Hinata like a gift, every time, without fail. He wonders how Kageyama thinks about the ball he sends away, so gently, like a kiss, and no burns to remember it by.

He thinks about running, he thinks about the empty hand that’s so rarely filled. He takes a step forward.

But he doesn’t run to him. No, not yet. He grabs his bike kicks his heels in the air as he glides. Over his shoulder, Kageyama is already gone.

-

Hinata was never one to wait. Hinata was one to do, and one to never stop doing. He thought about Kageyama’s hand and the precious gift it sends to Hinata, sent with perfect precision and fingerprints like stamps on its surface. He thought about slender fingers for one moment too long, and now he needs them.

They’re running side by side, feet slapping the ground next to each other, close enough to worry about tripping, but not quite in sync. One and a half of Hinata’s strides goes into one long step of Kageyama’s, and the boy is always left with faster legs and shoe’s that are worn out a half step before Kageyama’s. 

It’s a team run, technically, and Daichi likes them to finish runs as a team, mostly together, and mostly in synch. The two are leading the pack, but Daichi’s lecture and Suga’s steady stare holds them back, making Hinata feel like he should be barking, restless and straining on his leash. They settle for matching pace, instead of racing, and find a silent competition in discovering who will break the synch first. Hinata feels his forehead, wrinkled like a discarded envelope, as he listens to Kageyama panting beside him. 

Really, it all falls apart when they’re shoulders brush. Kageyama jumps at the contact, and Hinata’s foot gets stepped on, sending him to his knees on the tar, and providing the perfect bump for Kageyama to topple over. Hinata looks up to see Kageyama’s feet, straight up in the air, and face towards the sky, eyes a dark void, colder than January.

“Get your asses together and meet us back at the gym,” Daichi calls as feet trample around them. Tanaka is laughing somewhere, and Tsukishima is probably smirking, the bastard, and Hinata is glad the group has past them before he thought of something clever to say, something mean and stinging that would be sure to make Kageyama even madder than he already was going to be, and speaking of Kageyama, he’s sitting up and his face hasn’t even slightly changed, and shit, he’s going to yell, isn’t he? He has his most dangerous expression settled on his features and this is probably the end of Hinata.

Running would probably be a safe option right now, safer than staying for sure, and he’s on his feet before he can think about the scrapes on his knees and the blood that will probably have dripped into his socks by now.

He sees the storm cloud in Kageyama’s eyebrows, and he worries that tomorrow will be hell if he leaves now, so he sticks his hand out, and turns his head away like Kageyama is some sort of rabid animal, and his teeth make a little burrow in his lip as he waits for Kageyama to grab his arm and pull him back to the ground or bite it or sacrifice it in some sort of weird volleyball ritual.

But he doesn’t feel anything, so he looks up, and sees a standing Kageyama in front of him, his shirt ripped a little at the hem of his sleeve.

“I could have helped you stand, that’s why my hand was out,” Hinata say, snatching his hand back and tugging at his hair, embarrassed, and struggling to keep his tone dignified, righteous, and not the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t get to hold those thin fingers.

“You’re the one who knocked me over, dumbass, why should I let you help me up?”

“Let? I was trying to be helpful, idiot! Ever heard of manners?”

“Whatever, you klutz! We’re gonna miss the rest of practice, we have to get back.”

“You won’t be getting back before me.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“Well, I’m already there, basically.”

“Then you should start running!”

And they’re off again, Hinata a half step ahead, and forcing his legs to move faster and faster to chase the one second of victory when his feet hit the gym stairs, his hand empty, but reaching forward.

-

He doesn’t know is he’s imagining it, but every time his hand hits the ball, sending it slamming onto the other side of the court, he thinks that he feels a pinch of warmth, and he wonders if his hand is hitting the same spot that Kageyama used to send the ball spinning towards him. He likes to think he is.  
They race to sweep the floors, and they end up lining their mops side by side as they puch them across the floor, he thinks they look like bodies, lying their together, they’re bristles mixing together.

Kageyama changes before he finishes packing his bag, as per usual, and when he leaves the dressing room, he sees the shadow of Kageyama’s black jacket in the doorway. He doesn’t run, but his feet are quick to catch up, and feel their empty hands close to each other. Hinata will never stop running towards that. He doesn’t know how to stop.

-

Kageyama doesn’t sit in his bed dreaming about a hand inches away from his, but he does think about staring up at Hinata, and a face cast into shadows by sunshine and hair like a halo, and never even considers grabbing his hand. Not when he’d have to let it go so soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there wasn't any actual hand holding, but I wanted to try and convey things without saying them, but I'm not really sure how it turned out. Thanks for reading! I'd love any feedback.


End file.
